Snowdrop
by LibrarianWho
Summary: "And now we honor our fiftieth anniversary. As a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, each district will be required to send twice as many tributes." When Melia Cressview, her brother Ember and her best friend Bailey are picked for the Hunger Games, they see it as a death sentence. But they're strong and will do everything they can to survive, no matter the odds.
1. Prologue

_"On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes that represent it._

 _And now we honour our fiftieth anniversary. As a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district will be required to send twice as many tributes."_

 _I gasp, staring at the clunky, static-ridden television that sits on the table. Mother inhales sharply, and Kaitlynn staggers backwards. Ember sighs, his head and shoulders drooping forward. Burnet stands stock-still as a look of horror briefly flits across his face, and little Posy sits, oblivious to us all, playing with my old rag doll._

 _That's twice as many chances I have to be picked. It's not… it's not fair. Why should we be punished for the things our ancestors did? Is it not enough that we've had to sit by for fifty years while the Capitol takes our children and forces us to watch as they die on live television?_

 _I need to get out. I'm suffocating, the room is closing in on me…_

 _And I'm running._

 _Barging through the door, tearing across the yard of our house in the Seam, the wind nipping at my face and fingers like the teeth from a dog. The band that has held my hair back loosens and then slips out, and my hair whips at my face._

 _I don't know where to go. The fence? No, I can't go there. I could be seen, I'm not quiet enough in my panic._

 _But somehow my legs are forcing me that way, and before I know it I've skidded to a halt in front of the wire loops. My breath catches in my throat, coming in small, sharp stabs to my chest. I lean over, my hands braced against my thighs, trying to regain at least a semblance of sanity. I know I must look a real sight, wild, frightened eyes, matted hair, mouth open in shock._

 _There's a hand on my shoulder. I scream, swatting at whoever it is._

 _"Get away! Go away!"_

 _"Melia, shh. Shh, it's alright."_

 _It's Bailey, my best friend._

 _"No! No, it's not all right! Don't you – don't you see what he's doing? President Snow, he's – he's –"_

 _She catches my hands in hers, pulling me upright. "Yes, Mel. I know. He's horrid. But we can't change what's happened. And honestly, I don't appreciate being bruised. I want to be in my best shape if I'm going in."_

 _I laugh, despite my fury. At President Snow, at the Gamemakers, at the world. Bailey hugs me, and I find myself wrapping my own arms around her._

 _"Four tributes, Bee. Four. That means that you, I, and Ember could all go in. What if that happens? What then?"_

 _"It won't, silly. I don't think we're quite that unlucky," she reassures me._

 _Oh, but what if we are?_

 _Only one comes out, Bailey. Only one._


	2. Chapter 1

My mother smiles at me through the cracked mirror as she rinses the last of the soap from my hair. How long has it been since we sat like this? Years, it must be. And perhaps it's only because she knows that there's more of a chance that I'll be picked this year.  
She carefully pats my hair dry, then drapes the towel around my shoulders and starts to comb out the tangles. I say nothing; only watch her through the mirror as she places a gentle hand against the back of my head and works the knots out. I long for her to be more like this all the time, but she hasn't been the same. Not since Father was struck down by disease when I was twelve.  
She braids my hair, ties it off, and wipes her hands on the towel. "There we go. You look lovely."  
I don't really. Not like the girls from the merchant families, with their soft, expensive dresses and blonde hair. I've just got the typical Seam look – dark hair, grey eyes, olive skin. I've heard that girls long ago wanted to be thin, but not as thin as us from the Seam. Not like us, where it's normal to have your ribs sticking out and elbows so sharp they're like the blade of a knife.  
I turn and bury my face in my mother's dress, inhaling her earthy smell. She wraps her arms around me, resting her head against mine.  
I hear footsteps, but I don't move. "We'll have to go shortly," says Burnet. "It's almost one, and you know how packed the square gets."  
My mother pulls away from me, but I don't want her to. She lifts her hand, strokes my cheek.  
"You'll be all right. You're my big brave girl, and no matter what happens, you'll be all right."  
I nod, biting the inside of my cheek, because I know I have to. I have to be okay.  
My mother leans forward and kisses the top of my head. "Good girl. Now, I think I have a dress from when I was your age. I know it's not as pretty as the ones the other girls will have, but you might like it." She opens her rickety dresser and pulls out a cream-coloured dress. I'll have to wear my old, worn shoes from last year's reaping, but my mother's kindness makes me want to hug her again and never let go.  
I change, and she smiles. "You look beautiful."  
"No I don't," I say. I look far nicer than usual, but I wouldn't call myself beautiful.  
We head out to the main room. Ember has combed back his hair and is dressed in his good shirt and trousers. He smiles reassuringly at me. It's just us who have to worry about the reaping. He's seventeen, and has his name in the reaping ball fourteen times because of tessera rations. Because I'm fourteen, mine is in six times.  
Kaitlynn and Burnet, who have been ineligible for the Games for only a couple of years, are both wearing their cleanest, least coal-covered clothes. Even little Posy, who has seven years before she even needs to worry about being reaped, has her hair braided back and wears one of my old dresses.  
She clutches her doll and sticks her thumb in her mouth. Even she knows what today means.  
My mother takes a deep breath and smiles. "We've all had lunch, haven't we? I'm sure we'll have some lovely supper after the reaping, and perhaps I'll find some mint leaves in the cupboard to make tea."  
She's trying desperately to be cheery, but my stomach squeezes into knots as we leave and make for the square.  
Forty-eight tributes this year. Forty-eight children, marching to their death. I could be one of them.  
The square, usually bright and full of chatter, is grim and silent as people sign in and move to their designated area.  
Ember and I go towards the roped-off section for the potential tributes. He grips my hand, and I feel how clammy it is. He's just as scared as I am.  
We have to split to stand with kids from our age. I'll be standing further towards the back than Ember, since he's more likely to be reaped.  
"I'll find you after," he says, then lets go of my hand. He's swallowed up by kids almost instantly.  
I make my way to the group of fourteen-year-olds from the Seam. We exchange small smiles, but only out of politeness. None of us feel like smiling. Not today.  
Someone grabs my hand. Bailey beams at me, but her eyes don't light up like they usually do.  
Of course not. This year, her younger sister Willow is in the reaping. If this were a normal year, Bailey wouldn't worry about her.  
"She'll be fine, Bailey," I reassure her. "Don't worry. If we should be scared for anyone, think about you. Twelve times."  
"Yeah, but that doesn't stop me worrying," she says, the smile falling from her lips.  
At two o'clock, the mayor steps up to the podium. He clears his throat and begins to read the history of Panem. The storms, the fires, the disasters that nearly destroyed the country, the war that came afterwards. He speaks of the Dark Days, a rebellion that obliterated District Thirteen. The remains of Thirteen still smoulder, unable to be inhabited even after fifty years.  
Then comes a list of the past victors of District Twelve. It's hardly a list; we've only had one victor. Acacia Hawnett, a young woman who sits with her hands folded in her lap in one of three chairs on the stage. She won the 41st Hunger Games purely by hiding and outlasting the other tributes. She almost starved to death, but the boy from Two was stung by poisonous insects before she did. Most victors I've seen on television have been crippled by drink or morphling, but not Acacia. Perhaps this would be the case if she'd been mentoring tributes for longer and had seen more die.  
After reading the Treaty of Treason, the mayor then introduces Maximus Redpath, a Capitol man with bright blue hair and a matching suit. He takes the mayor's place, a huge grin plastered on his face, and speaks.  
"Welcome to the fiftieth Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favour!" he exclaims.  
"Yes, because they're very favourable odds this year," Bailey mutters, and I snort.  
"It's such an honour to be here, for the very exciting Quarter Quell!" Maximus goes on a bit, and people start fidgeting in the crowd. It's hot and cramped, and the smell of sweat permeates the air. Perhaps it's the heat, perhaps it's nerves.  
"Now, it's time for me to pick who will be going to the Games this year. Ladies first!" He reaches into the girls' bowl and snags a name.  
I squeeze Misty's hand, desperately hoping that it's not me, it's not me, it's not me. My friend's odds are worse, but I can only think of myself...  
"Willow Birling!"  
I exhale. It's not –  
I look over at Bailey. Her face is pasty white; she looks like she's about to faint. I hear her breath catch mid-inhale, then she lets go of my hand. I open my mouth to shout, but she shoves me aside and runs.  
"I – Willow! I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" she screams.  
I'm having a hard time staying upright myself. How could she do that? But then I realise. I might have done the same for Posy.  
"A volunteer?" Maximus looks up abruptly. "Oh, I think that we – um – then..."  
We haven't had a volunteer for years, if ever. Maximus looks unsure of what to do, but the mayor just nods. "Let her go."  
Maximus stares at him, then he grins once more. "Well then! Let's have a round of applause for our volunteer! Come on up, dear."  
Bailey walks slowly up onto the stage, her face grey. Her eyebrows knit together, and even from here I can see that her jaw is set. She's determined not to seem weak.  
Willow sobs, and is led away to her mother by a Peacekeeper. I watch them through the crowd. My mother wraps an arm around them, mutters assurances.  
 _She's a brave girl, your Bailey. She knows how to take care of herself._  
"What's your name?" Maximus asks, then tilts the microphone toward Bailey.  
She swallows. "B-bailey Birling."  
"Oh, my! Was that your sister?"  
"Yes."  
"Well, that's unlucky. But we must be getting on. Now for our next female tribute!" Maximus grabs another piece of paper.  
My mind is racing. My best friend... in the Hunger Games.  
"Maysilee Donner!"  
I hear screams and one girl crying somewhere in front of me. I don't know who they are.  
I take a deep, shuddering breath. Open my mouth.  
"I volunteer as tribute!"


	3. Chapter 2

_What have I signed myself up to?_ I think, as I walk towards the stage.  
I know everyone is staring at me, and briefly I wonder what Ember will think of me doing this. I know, from Bailey's death-glare, that she certainly isn't happy with my decision, but I couldn't let her go in there alone.  
"And what, my dear, is your name?" Maximus asks as I mount the stage.  
I swallow. My throat is dry, and I feel like I might choke. This has only happened a handful of times before, and usually it's been when I've run too far without water.  
"Melia. Melia Cressview," I say.  
I wince at the sound of my voice. Weak. I sound weak.  
"Well, that's certainly a surprise! Two volunteers from District Twelve in the same Games!" He grins his scary grin, then crosses to the other reaping ball. "And now, for the boys."  
My stomach squelches into knots again as I stand beside Bailey. A wind is beginning to pick up now, and my skirt flaps about my knees. I wipe my sweaty hands on the fabric, but it does nothing.  
I look down at the crowd. My mother stands with the oldest two and Posy. She still has a hand on Bailey's mother's shoulder, but I see her pained expression. Kaitlynn has buried her face in her hands, and Burnet shifts Posy on his hip.  
"Ember Cressview!"  
My mother changes in an instant. Her hand flies to her mouth, and her knees buckle. Even from up here, I can still hear a strangled cry of, "My babies!" Kaitlynn crouches beside her, pulls my mother's head onto her shoulder.  
I close my eyes and exhale, forcing myself to keep calm. My breakfast is threatening to come up. A hand squeezes my own.  
I open my eyes and look over to my brother's age group. It's not hard to find him; all heads are turned towards him as he moves towards the stage.  
His fists are clenched, his face drained of all colour, and I'm not sure if it's because I volunteered or because he was reaped. He looks up at me for a fraction of a second, but it's enough to see that little flicker of anger. He takes his place beside me, grabs my other hand.  
"Siblings... oh, my. What a pity," says Maximus, his voice hushed. He sounds genuinely upset. "Do we have any volunteers?"  
I know Burnet would if he were still eligible. But nobody, not one person, steps forward to volunteer for my brother. They all stare up at us. Cowards.  
"No? All right. Now for our final tribute." He spends an unnecessarily long time scrabbling around for the final name, then looks out at the crowd for a few seconds before he speaks. "Haymitch Abernathy."  
The boy, a grumpy-looking sixteen from the Seam, makes his way to stand beside Ember. He barely looks at us, instead glaring straight ahead.  
Maximus asks for volunteers, but nobody comes forward. "Oh boy. I think these are going to be the best Games yet! I present, the tributes of District Twelve!"  
Nobody claps. Haymitch barely has time to snort derisively before my brother takes up his hand. Then, as if he and Bailey have been planning this, they raise our arms up into the air, our fingers linked. You can almost see the district give a collective gasp.  
I'm not quite sure what this means, but I know the President won't like it. He won't like our unity, our blatant disregard for everything the Games symbolise. We aren't supposed to act like friends. We're supposed to be the bitterest of enemies.  
The mayor motions for us to shake hands. It's far more fuss than any other year, since there's four of us. Ember squeezes my hand and gives me the smallest of smiles, his eyes overly bright as if he's trying not to cry. We all turn to face the crowd again as the anthem blares, then we're taken into the Justice Building.  
I'm led to another room, where I sit by myself. If it weren't for the horrible circumstances, I might like this room. The carpets are thick and fluffy, the couch covered in this deep red, soft fabric. I can't name the material, but I run my hands over it obsessively.  
Should I cry? Should I pretend to be weak? I remember a few years ago, a boy did nothing but weep and snivel, and he was overlooked to the point where nobody paid him any attention. He ended up battering the last tribute to death with a rock. It was awful, but obviously the tactic works.  
But then my family burst through the door and my mother envelops me in her arms. "My baby," she murmurs into my hair.  
I look over her shoulder. Kaitlynn looks like she's been crying and has made no attempt to wipe the tears, and Burnet's face is pale.  
"Posy?" I ask.  
"She's with Aspen," Burnet replies, speaking of the old woman who lives next to us. She's quite kind, and often offers to look after Posy when my mother is busy and the rest of us are at school or work.  
Burnet folds his arms, shooting me a half-smile. "You're so stupid, Mel, you know that?"  
My mother pulls away, wipes her eyes. I force out a laugh, but it sounds wrong.  
"Yes, I know. But I'm going to do my best to get out of these Games, I promise. You guys – you guys can't stop. No matter what you see on the screen, no matter how awful it is..." I trail off, biting my lip. Ember should be saying these words. He's the one they'll listen to.  
But Burnet simply nods. "Of course we will. I'll look after Mum and Kaitlynn –"  
"Oi! I can take care of myself, thanks!" my sister snaps.  
" – yes, and you won't be looking after yourself too well if anything happens in the arena, will you? Look at what happened after Dad died," retorts Burnet. Kaitlynn's mouth snaps shut. "And I won't let anything happen to Posy. I'll make sure we've got enough food. I mean, half the district's tributes are from our family, there'll be no shortage of gifts from people. I daresay that girl you volunteered for will bring something."  
I nod. He's right. Every year, the families of the tributes get gifts from others around the district. It's almost like we know that something will happen to the tributes, so we give the families food to help them through it. We know they'll almost stop living once they see their sons and daughters die.  
I look sternly at my brother and sister. "And don't you two even think about arguing while we're gone. I know what you're like, but you can't." I feel like my mother, looking tiredly at them after one of their petty screaming matches. They just nod.  
The door opens, and a Peacekeeper gestures to my family. "Time's up."  
But it's too soon – too soon, and I'm leaping from the couch, hugging my mother and siblings so hard I almost hear my ribs creaking. I'm saying, "I love you, I love you all," and they're saying it back, then the Peacekeeper orders them out. The door slams shut, and I'm alone.  
My eyes burn, and I wipe them fiercely with the back of my hand. I refuse to cry. But the lump in the back of my throat is growing with every second, and it's harder to keep the tears in.  
The door opens again. I don't know who this person is. She's quite pretty, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. Definitely a merchant's kid. She gives me a watery smile.  
"Hello," she says, in a voice she's struggling to keep steady. I just stare at her, unsure of what to say. "I'm – I'm Maysilee. You volunteered for me."  
"Oh! Um, hello." I'm not quite sure why she's here.  
"I just wanted to say thank you. What you did... it was so brave, and I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you." She perches on the couch beside me.  
"Oh, no. Don't worry, it's fine."  
"I brought you these." She pulls a small paper bag from her pocket. "They're peppermints, from the sweet shop. My father, he gave them to me for you."  
"I – I can't take them. Honestly, it's all right. I only needed a thank you." I smile, but Maysilee pushes them into my hands.  
"Take them, we've got plenty more in the shop. I do live there, after all." She laughs, then goes quiet, as though she's thinking. "You seem brave. I'm sure you'll do well in the arena."  
I shake my head. "No. I'll be the first one gone." And, despite my less-than-thrilled mood, we both snort with laughter.  
"No, you won't. You'll win, your brother will make sure of that. I saw him punch those boys who were picking on you a few years ago, and I know what he's like. He won't let anything happen to you." We're silent for a moment. "I expect the Peacekeepers will be ordering me out soon," Maysilee says. She leans forward and kisses my cheek, then stands. "Again, thank you." Then she's gone.  
I look down at the crumpled bag in my hands. We've never been able to afford sweets, but I remember when I was younger, much younger, Kaitlynn would always take me to the window of the sweet shop so we could gaze in at the brightly-coloured candies. I won't ever be able to do that with Posy. I wonder if she'll remember me when I'm gone.  
Someone else enters the room. It's Bailey's mother, Ivy. She's been crying. Her eyes and nose are puffy, her eyelashes spiky with tears.  
I stand, and she says nothing, just hugs me. I don't know what to say, so I return the embrace. After a few minutes, Ivy pulls away and presses a cool hand to my cheek.  
"I'll take care of them," she says. "And you'll look after each other in the arena, I know."  
I nod. "Of course we will. I – I'll try and bring Bailey home."  
Ivy gives a small smile, shakes her head slightly. "No. She was never made for these Games, you know that." I'm startled by how dismissive she is of her own daughter. "You and Ember, you'll try your best to keep yourselves safe, but..." She trails off, but I know what she means.  
 _Don't blame yourself for her death._  
She's given up on her daughter already.  
The Peacekeepers are back. "Good luck, Melia," Ivy says, then turns and walks away quietly. I'm left staring after her, unsure of what to say.  
A pair of Peacekeepers marches me out of the Justice Building and into a car, where we're driven – like cattle or like royalty – to the train station. As we all four stand, waiting for the cameras to catch a good look at us, Ember catches my hand in his and holds on like a lifeline.  
We're going to have to look after each other if we want to survive.


	4. Chapter 3

I stay by the window of the train until the last bits of my home are gobbled up by the woods. I hear a soft rustling behind me, and turn. It's Ember.  
"Hey, kiddo," he says. "You okay?"  
"Yeah," I reply, even though I'm not. "I – I just miss home. And it's awful knowing that I'm never going to see Mother, or my bed, or that funny old tree near the fence. You know, the one that we'd play in when we were little? I won't see that ever again."  
He places a palm on my shoulder. "Me too. Don't worry. But if either of us gets home, we _will_ be able to climb that tree again, and we can scrape our hands and knees on the bark like we used to."  
I face him. "Yes, but for that to happen, one of us has to die."  
"And it won't be you, I'll make sure of that." Ember hugs me, resting his chin on my head.  
I don't think we've done this for years. He's always too busy with schoolwork now to pay me much attention, but that's about to change. I realise just how much I've missed his affection.  
"You should go and see Bailey," he says after a moment.  
Bailey's on her bed, her face in her hands. I sit down beside her and start rubbing circles into her back.  
She's not crying, though. It's more likely that she's fuming. The Capitol, they picked her sister. Then she volunteered, along with her best friend.  
"I hate them," she mutters.  
"Me too, Bee," I reply.  
And I do. I hate them. I hate them for standing by, while our families starved and caught incurable illnesses, while we lived in fear of being picked to participate a death tournament and be ridiculed like animals.  
" _I hate them_!" she screams, then suddenly lashes out at the glass of water on the table beside her bed. The glass shatters into hundreds of tiny pieces, and the clear liquid runs towards the back of the car. She runs her hands through her hair. I've never seen her quite like this, and it's almost frightening.  
"Bailey, I know you hate them. But lashing out and breaking things won't help."  
Bailey looks at me, her scowl fading and her anger ebbing away. She sits, clenching and unclenching her fingers like she's trying really hard not to break anything else. She might simply be trying to stop herself breaking. As she presses her head into the curve of my shoulder, my arm automatically pulls her into a hug.  
"Come on, Bee. Let's go to dinner."  
Everyone's already assembled at the dining table. I wonder if maybe Ember told Maximus to leave us to come and get dinner when we're ready.  
Bailey slumps down in her seat, myself next to her. Almost immediately my spirits are lifted by the food laid out on the table. Soft rolls spread with creamy goat's cheese and a strange, pale yellow soup which Maximus informs us is potato and leek. More and more food keeps coming, and I keep stuffing myself because it's all so good. Pork chops and bitter greens, mushrooms in sauce and mashed potato and peas, a fruit and walnut cake. There's also a strange, dark red liquid. I try some, but it burns my throat. I splutter, and Maximus laughs.  
"Oh, silly girl! That's _wine_! You're too young to be drinking that," he says. "Pass it to your brother."  
So I do. Ember's suppressing a smile as he takes the glass, and I shoot him a look.  
Haymitch looks over at Acacia, then finishes his mouthful of pork. "So, do you have any advice for us yet? Because you're not much use as a mentor if you're just going to sit there and watch us eat."  
Acacia smirks. "I'm not watching you eat. I'm trying to decide what angle I want you all to play. We want you to be believable in both the chariots and the interviews, and we can't do that if you're showing different personalities all the time."  
She has a point. What use are the interviews if I play a cute, happy girl in the chariots and then I'm presented with as much anger and brutality as I can muster? Not only will I look stupid if I play that angle, but people will be confused and won't know who I am.  
"Have you decided anything yet?" I ask, scraping my plate clean with my fork.  
Acacia cups her chin in her fingers, thinking for a moment. "You and your brother should definitely act like siblings who want nothing more than for each other to get home safely."  
"That's what we _do_ want," interrupts Ember. "We're not acting like that at all."  
"Well good," says Acacia, and I can't quite tell if she's being sarcastic. "Because then you'll be so much more genuine! You – Bailey, what's-your-name – you and Melia are obviously very close. But you're very different from her. You're... darker."  
It's my turn to interrupt. "Uh, no, she's not. Maybe you should wait to get to know us better before you start saying we're something we're not."  
Acacia stares at me, a smile working its way to her lips. "Yes, maybe I should." She's watching me thoughtfully, and it's slightly disconcerting.  
I feel slightly guilty for snapping at her, but she's trying to pass judgement on our personalities and we've hardly even seen her for five minutes. Should I apologise? I know I should, but I'm too angry with her to even speak.  
So we all eat in silence, the only sound the occasional scrape of cutlery against dish. Soon I'm beginning to think I shouldn't have eaten so much food, but I'm determined to keep it all down. I look over at Ember, and he's looking decidedly green. Being from the Seam, we've never had quite enough to eat, even when we've sold Posy's clothes as she grows too big for them. But the best thing we can do between now and the arena is get some meat on our bones.  
Once the meal is over, we troop to another compartment to watch the recap of the reapings. It makes me feel sick all over again to watch the sheer number of kids walking to their death, and despite so many tributes, only a few stand out in my mind. A girl from District 1 who lunges forward to volunteer. A massive, muscly boy from 2. A boy from District 3 whose glasses perch on the end of his nose. A thin girl from District 10. She's smiling slightly, like she knows something the rest of us don't.  
Last of all, District Twelve is shown. I watch as Willow is reaped, Bailey runs forward, screaming to volunteer. I see now who I could hear crying before I went up. Three girls, all merchants' kids. Two look identical, and I recognise Maysilee, the girl I volunteered for. I watch myself mount the stage as the commentators talk about how odd it is to see volunteers from District 12, let alone two in the same Games. I close my eyes as my brother and Haymitch are reaped, then the anthem plays and the programme ends.  
"You're a bit of a rebellious bunch, aren't you?" asks Acacia. There's no hint of anger or sarcasm in her voice. She's perfectly calm.  
I open my eyes, puzzled. "What do you mean?"  
She shifts in her seat. "The volunteering. The hand-holding. And even now, you don't seem to be upset or annoyed at the circumstances."  
"None of it was planned," my brother replies. "Well, except for the hand-holding. But even then, it wasn't meant to be rebellious."  
Acacia smiles, and I can see she's thinking again. "But that's good. That's very good." She nods, but not at anyone in particular. "I think... I think I might know how we can play this. It'll just involve our own little game. But anyway. You four will need to be up early tomorrow. Go on, off to bed." She flaps her hand at us dismissively, and we leave to our rooms.  
My brother stops at my door and holds his arms out. I accept his embrace. I want nothing more than to burrow under his blanket and curl up with my arms around his neck like I did when I was small. That was before I had to worry about the reaping, when I was so young Ember could protect me from anything. Before my father died and everything got so much worse.  
"We'll be okay," he says. "You and me, we can do this. We can make District Twelve proud."  
I nod, and he pulls away. He smiles sadly, then crosses the train carriage to his own room. I hesitate before turning away and stepping into my room.  
I open the drawers and change into a soft nightgown, something I've never worn in my life. I've always just slept in my undergarments. Once I'm changed, I crawl between the sheets. I want to cry, but I can't. Instead, I listen to the train until I fall asleep.

Maximus hammers on my door, calling for me to wake. I dress in a plain grey shirt and trousers. I don't even bother to brush out my hair before I go to the dining car.  
Acacia sits with Maximus, whispering to him. Her hand is clenched around a cup of something that smells really nice, and I recognise it as coffee. We can rarely afford this drink, but my mother and Kaitlynn adore it.  
I slide into my chair beside Bailey, and I'm served a plate piled high with food. Eggs, bacon, sausages. There's a basket of soft, buttery rolls on the table, and a jug of some kind of sweet-smelling brown liquid. I pour myself a cup and take a sip. It's hot and creamy, and Ember laughs as I drain the cup and pour myself another.  
"It's hot chocolate, apparently," he says, eating a forkful of egg.  
Misty seems far happier this morning. She downs a plate of breakfast and then eats quite a few bread rolls. Haymitch says nothing, just eats in silence.  
Acacia looks up at us after a while. She gulps back the rest of her coffee and then leans towards us. "Right. Now that I've got you all here and quiet, I want you to listen. We'll be arriving in the Capitol soon, and then you'll be sent straight to your stylists. I've been working with Maximus on the angles I want you all to play." I butter a roll and take a large bite as she continues. "Melia, you and Ember will try and stick together as much as possible. Once we're in the Capitol, there'll be people waiting at the train station, all trying to get a glimpse of you. You two stay at each other's side until you're in the Remake Centre. Bailey, you seem to be quite energetic and likeable now that you've had time to let yesterday's events wash over you. Wave, smile, do whatever you have to do to make the crowd love you. Haymitch, you're the dark one. Don't smile, don't show the crowd you like them in any way."  
Haymitch snorts. "Oh, don't worry. I don't like them anyway."  
"Good, then you'll have no trouble. But am I clear? You stick to those angles. We'll work on them a bit more when you're getting ready for your interviews, but I think we can make this work." Acacia smiles at us, then remembers something. "Oh! Yes, I nearly forgot, it's been years since I did this myself. Your prep team. They're going to do things that you won't like. Ripping the hair off of you, lathering you with creams that'll scrape off several layers of skin, soaking you in baths of chemicals. Don't complain, no matter how painful it is, okay?"  
A shudder runs through me at the thought of what's going to happen once I'm handed over to my prep team. I've seen the way our tributes look after coming out of the Remake Centre. The girls have their eyebrows plucked within an inch of their lives so they look either permanently surprised or angry, and they have makeup plastered on to cover any blemishes.  
Eventually the train slows, and we race to the window. People in bright, extravagant clothing wave at us. The children clamour at their parents, some holding out their hands to the train. Even through the steel and glass of the train's exterior, I can hear the cheers and shouts as we pull into the station.  
We've arrived at the Capitol.


	5. Chapter 4

I sit on a cool metal table while my prep team strips my body of hair. I grit my teeth as Serena tears the last strip of fabric from my leg.  
I know I should feel self-conscious in front of them with no clothing on, but I can't. They're just so ridiculous. They look like the bags of brightly coloured popcorn I see in the window of Maysilee's sweet shop.  
Maysilee. I remember the bag of peppermints she gave me. I never remembered to retrieve the sweets nor my mother's dress from the train. Now I wish that I did.  
"Are you all right?" Luna asks, putting down her comb and looking at me with concern.  
I nod, smiling sweetly. "Yes, yes. I was just thinking of home."  
Demetrius sighs, clasping a hand to his heart. "Oh, you poor darling! You must be missing your family terribly. But don't worry, you'll feel right at home in the Capitol in no time. At least you'll finally have enough to eat; look at you!" He gestures to my painfully obvious ribs, and I have to bite back yet another disgusted remark about how we would have enough to eat if the Capitol weren't so harsh.  
I simply smile again, and say, "Oh, yes. I'll love the food."  
Once Luna stops snip-snip-snipping at my hair – to remove split ends, she says – I'm rubbed down with a lotion that soothes my raw body. Then my prep team removes any last hairs with tweezers, and stands back to admire their work.  
"Oh, _sweetheart_!" cries Luna. "You look lovely! Far better than when you came from District Twelve."  
I have to agree with her. We don't find much time or necessity for daily bathing, and even when we do it's a quick dip in cold water and soap, if we can afford it. My mother tries her best to boil the water over the fire so we can have a warm bath, but usually by the time it's my turn, it's already cooled. Our clothes are so dirty and faded that if there was ever any pattern on the fabric, you can't tell anymore, and makeup is a luxury that we can never afford. I've only seen a handful of girls from the merchants' area wearing lipstick.  
"Let's get Spindle!" exclaims Serena, and they all troop out.  
I breathe a sigh of relief. After the quiet, sensible people of District 12, these brightly painted ones are a little too much to bear. I wonder what spirits will be like back home. My mother and Kaitlynn will almost certainly be flicking the television on and off to see if the usual static has been replaced by the opening ceremonies broadcast. Is Burnet sticking to his promise? Looking after the girls? Making sure he doesn't fight with Kaitlynn?  
And what about Maysilee's family? Will they be watching us tonight? Or will they just be relieved that another girl is in her place?  
The door opens and a young woman walks in. She doesn't look remotely like she's from the Capitol. In fact, she has the tanned, worn face of someone from the Districts. Her light brown hair is tied back in a practical ponytail, and she wears a ruffled blouse and flared trousers. She smiles pleasantly at me.  
"Hello, Melia. I'm your stylist, Spindle," she says. Her voice is completely clear of any Capitol inflections.  
"Hello," I reply.  
"Before you ask, I'm from District Eight. They needed far more stylists this year, so I was picked, being from the textiles District. Now, just give me a moment." She circles me, inspecting my body. "Good. I can work with that. I'm aware that Acacia wants you and your brother to be inseparable?"  
I nod. "Yes, I think so."  
"I've already got an idea for your outfits. The training uniform is quite simple, just a black shirt and trousers. And I'm working with your brother's stylist, Juno, for the interview outfit. But I expect you're hungry since you've been sitting here for three hours, so put your robe back on and we'll get something to eat."  
I dress and follow her into a large room with several couches and a table. She sits across from me, then presses a button on the side of the table. A large platter of food appears, and the smell makes my mouth water. Chunks of tender lamb and brightly coloured vegetables cooked in a yellow sauce and served on a bed of golden grain, fresh rolls, and fruit dipped in something Spindle calls melted chocolate.  
I'm hesitant to start eating. It's almost as though I think I shouldn't have any of the Capitol's food because of who they are and what they do to us back in the districts. What must these people do all day, if not trading for food and cloth and soap and trying to survive? What must they think of us?  
Spindle must notice my look of disgust, since she gives a light laugh. "I can imagine you must think we're horrible people. All this luxury, while you struggle to even find enough to eat on a daily basis. I thought the same when I first arrived here."  
"But at least you've had time to adjust to it, and now you belong to the Capitol," I reply, my voice laced with sullenness.  
She just smiles and picks up a roll. "No, not really. You've got to remember that the reading of the card was only two months before the reapings. And I might belong to the Capitol, but that doesn't mean that I have to like them."  
She has a point. I help myself to a plate of the stew, albeit reluctantly, as she speaks again.  
"Back to the subject of your outfits. Since it's customary to wear something that reflects the principal industry of your district, you'll be in coal miner's outfits. Nothing too flashy."  
Oh, boy. Nothing more dull than a coal miner's get-up.  
Spindle sees my expression and grins. "I'll try to make it as exciting as possible. But it means that you're going to need to see your prep team again."

A few hours later, I'm dressed in a simple white shirt and short overalls. A belt with a plastic pickaxe hangs at my waist, and a strip of cloth with a headlamp ties around my head. My prep team was instructed to apply black smudges to my body and to tie back my hair in a ponytail.  
Haymitch leans against our carriage, seemingly too bored to acknowledge any of us. Bailey seems jittery, smiling constantly and never standing still for more than a few seconds. Ember just clasps my hand. Right. Got to keep up the sibling angle.  
The chariots are much bigger this year, since they've got to carry twice as many tributes. Ours is pulled by black horses, which are so well trained that nobody needs to guide the reins.  
We clamber into the chariot. I'm not sure who the other two stylists are, but Spindle smiles reassuringly at me. "You'll be okay," she calls.  
Then the anthem begins and massive doors slide open to reveal the streets of the Capitol. The tributes from District 1 ride out on a silver-painted chariot. They're in dark outfits encrusted with rubies, and the crowd goes wild almost immediately. From where our chariot is positioned, I can see District 2 prepare to follow them. They're in brick-patterned outfits; ride out on a carriage that seems to be made out of stone. Three, Four, Five.  
As the tributes roll out, a knot begins to form in my stomach. Ember grips my hand even harder, gives me a reassuring smile. How must I look to the other tributes? Much smaller than them, clinging to my brother. Pathetic.  
Then before I know it, District 11 is rolling out on their chariot and we get into position to follow them.  
"Smile, you lot!" shouts Spindle. "You want them to think you _want_ to be here. Be proud of your District!"  
I force an awkward smile onto my lips. Ember stands tall and grins, looking completely relaxed. I don't know how he does it, but I tell myself I must follow his example.  
As we ride out into the Capitol, my back straightens a little. The crowd's cheers die down a little bit as they see our outfits. We've never really been a contender with the other chariot outfits, which is part of the reason why our tributes hardly get any sponsors.  
But then I find myself beaming, and Ember has our hands clasped above his head. What's he trying to do? Does he honestly think that playing the sibling angle will help us gain support?  
He's right, though. Eventually I can make out cries of " _Ember and Melia! Ember and Melia!_ "  
Then someone throws a rose to us. Ember breaks our handhold just long enough to catch it, wave in the general direction of the person who threw it, and then tuck it behind my ear.  
My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. That, combined with the music blasting all around us and the shouts of our name, are enough to cause a little fizz of excitement in my stomach. I blow a few kisses to the crowd and hands reach up to catch them as though they're real. All the time I can feel my smile widening until my face feels like it might split in two.  
As we enter the City Circle, Ember wraps an arm around me and waves to the crowd. They go absolutely nuts, screaming our names, until we pull to a halt in front of President Snow's mansion. My brother doesn't let go.  
As the music ends and the president begins his welcoming speech, I look up to see my brother and I on one of the screens set up beside the mansion. I look so young, leaning against Ember, my eyes wide and a small smile on my lips. I can't help noticing that the camera hovers over us for just a fraction longer than the other tributes. I suppose it makes sense. People should sympathise with us, the siblings who want nothing more than to get each other home safely.  
The national anthem plays, the cameras give another cut around to the tributes, and we circle around and into the Training Centre.  
Ember climbs out first, then holds out his arms to help me out. Spindle runs forward, a massive grin on her face.  
"Oh, you two were brilliant! I can tell already that you'll have sponsors lining up by the dozen." She looks over at Haymitch and Bailey. I realise I completely forgot about them, I was so caught up with Ember. "Bailey, I think you'll be quite a surprise to the other tributes. You were completely laid back, but there was still a hint of fire behind that calm demeanour. And Haymitch. You're absolutely perfect. You're the darker side of District Twelve, and it offsets the other three wonderfully. You should all four be very proud of yourselves."  
Later on, when I wash the last of my makeup from my face in the shower, I crouch down so the water splashes against my back like rain. I allow myself a minute to grin like an idiot.  
"There we go, Melia. They love you," I tell myself. "They think that you and Ember are adorable together, and Spindle said that you'll have sponsors lining up by the dozen. What more could you want?"  
I turn the water off and dress in a shirt and soft trousers. Then I climb into bed and gaze out the window at the Capitol. The lights twinkle like stars, and I hear shouts from the streets below. These people are so loud. Would I be the same way if I had been brought up here? Would my priorities be silly little things like getting my eyebrows the same colour as my outfit, instead of getting enough to eat? I like to think that wouldn't be the case, but judging by every person I've seen so far, I get the feeling I'd worry about things the districts deem unimportant.  
I close my eyes and fall asleep with a small smile.


	6. Chapter 5

"Up, come on darling, get up! Today's a big big day, and you need to have breakfast before training starts."  
Maximus hammers on my door, shouting for me to wake. I roll over and stare out the window for a moment. Despite the horrible circumstances, I have to admit that the Capitol is beautiful in the morning. Light spills over the buildings, casting gold threads across the city. It's far more colourful than the dreary grey of District Twelve.  
District Twelve. My second day away from home. Is Mother holding out? Are Kaitlynn and Burnet looking after Posy and keeping the household together like they promised?  
"Come on, Melia! Everyone's waiting for you," Maximus calls, sounding exasperated.  
"Just a minute!" I haul myself out of bed and dress in the outfit Spindle has laid out for me. A simple black shirt and trousers, with boots similar to those I wore last night.  
My lips curl up in a small smile as I think of the crowd, screaming my name. Melia Cressview, Panem's favourite sister. I like that.  
When I reach the dining room, everyone is already seated. Bailey beams at me as I slide into a chair beside her and an attendant piles my plate high.  
"If we're going to die a horrible death, kudos to the Capitol for giving us decent bedding," she says.  
Acacia takes a swig of coffee, then speaks. "Right. You lot, training starts today. That means that everyone's going to see what you're made of. This will determine who wants you as an ally, and who doesn't. Of course, since you've had no training whatsoever before today, you'll look pretty weak. It's your job to show the rest of the tributes, that just because you're from District Twelve, it doesn't mean that you'll go down without a fight." She gives us all a hard look. "I'd recommend today, work on weapons. Long range weapons are best, of course, but you can't be sure that there'll be things like bows and spears in the arena. So work with a variety. Knives, spears, axes. It's best that you spend as much time on weaponry as possible. While I waited and hid for the majority of my Games, I had to kill at some point. Understood?"  
We nod as Acacia tips the rest of her coffee into her mouth, then pours herself another cup. She doesn't speak again, so we start eating.  
"What're you gonna work on, Ember?" Bailey asks, between mouthfuls of grain.  
He thinks for a moment. "Maybe spears or scythes. They look cool, and it means I don't have to get in too close if I end up having to fight someone."  
"They _look_ cool? You can't base your choice of weapon on how _cool_ they look!" Bailey snorts.  
"Yeah I can." Ember grins. "Why, does your weapon of choice look like a dog's hacked it up?"  
She goes silent and shoots him a look. I stifle a laugh, but quickly wipe the smile from my face. My family won't be joking around like this. They'll be sitting silently around the table, eating their unattractive brown mush and preparing to watch us die. Burnet might take Posy out to the old tree in the Meadow to play. Posy won't understand what's going on. She might question the absence of Ember and I, but Burnet and Kaitlynn will just protect her with lies.

When breakfast is finished, Maximus takes us to the elevator. All the way down to the training room, he babbles about what gems we are, about how he can't wait to tell his friends that he's our escort, that he just knows we'll make him proud.  
I chew my lip. What's there to be proud of us for? It'll be his friends who are betting on how long we'll last, who will kill us in the end. They'll be the ones who visit the arena in the coming years and reenact our gory deaths. We won't mean anything to him next year. We'll just be another set of tributes who fought and died for the honour of our district. Nothing more than names.  
When we reach the training room, all my annoyance fades and is replaced by nervousness. We step out into a large gymnasium that holds obstacle courses, tables of plants and ropes and wood, and of course, weaponry. As a Capitol attendant pins a cloth square with my district number onto my back, I notice a small circle of tributes already assembled in the centre of the room.  
There's only twenty four tributes here so far, and I hear Maximus mutter something about how "the lack of punctuality of the other escorts never ceases to amaze" him. I can't help noticing how half of the tributes here are from One, Two and Four. A girl from One nudges the boy next to her, and just like clockwork all twelve of them turn and sneer at us.  
As we join the circle, the girl points at me and whispers something in the boy's ear, and they laugh. I feel the blood rush to my cheeks, and Ember tenses up beside me.  
"If you're gonna say things about my sister you might as well tell all of us," he says.  
"No, don't," I whisper. "It's fine, just leave it."  
But it's not fine, and the Careers know it. Even though other tributes start to trickle into the gym, most of them keep their gaze on me. _They're just trying to intimidate you_ , I think. _Just because you're from Twelve. Don't let them. You're stronger than they think you are._  
I keep whispering this to myself as the head trainer, a tall, muscly woman called Calixta, starts to explain the schedule for training. We are not to spar with one another; there are assistants to help with that if we wish to practice with a partner. We can move around the stations as we like, and we can ask as many questions to the trainers as we feel necessary. Don't just go to the weaponry, we are more likely to die of natural causes than of another tribute. Well, that might be true, but we have to listen to Acacia.  
When Calixta finally finishes her spiel and lets us go, the Careers make a beeline for the biggest, deadliest-looking weapons. I shiver, wondering which one will end my life.  
"I'm going to the blades station," announces Haymitch, and saunters off without paying any attention to the other tributes.  
"I might look at the long-range stuff." Bailey goes in the opposite direction to Haymitch. I watch her flash a smile at the boy from Two as he picks up a spear and weighs it in his hands. For a slight girl who's nearly fifteen, she certainly tries to get around.  
"What about you, Mel?" Ember murmurs in my ear. "What do you want to try?"  
I think for a moment. "Erm... what about knives?" When I was little, before I had to actually worry about the Games, I would always watch the Careers with awe as they handled the blades with expert skill and ease.  
Ember agrees and we wander over to the same station as Haymitch. He doesn't even acknowledge us, instead listening studiously to one of the instructors.  
We're told that there are different kinds of knives for throwing and cutting. The instructors show us how to hold the blade properly, the proper stance for throwing, little things that I never would have thought of.  
Then they finally allow us to hit one of the targets. My first knife misses the target completely, but after a few tries I manage to hit two rings from the edge. I'm absurdly pleased with myself until I look round. The girl from District One, the one who laughed at me earlier, scoffs and balances the tip of her knife on her finger. I wince, expecting her to cut herself, but then she just gives me a superior grin and hits one of the practice dummies right between the eyes.  
"Nice job, Rouge," one of the instructors says, nodding at her in approval.  
Despite Acacia's advice, I tell myself I'm going to practise with these knives until I can hit my target every time. I'll show Rouge.


	7. Chapter 6

At the end of the day, Maximus comes to escort us back to our floor. I see his lip curl slightly in disgust as he sees just how sweaty – and probably smelly – we are, but he somehow manages to keep any remarks to himself.  
As the elevator doors part, he rushes into the corridor. "Perhaps you four should wash and then come to dinner. I'm sure Acacia will love to hear what you've been up to today."  
While I'm thankful for the shower to ease my stiff muscles, what I really want to be doing is sleeping. But I allow myself to stand in the deliciously warm water for a while and just think.  
I finally managed, after almost three hours at the blades station, to hit the middle of the target. I heard Rouge give a small noise of disbelief, possibly a swear or two, and I couldn't resist flashing her a smug grin. Then she threw a knife at her own practice dummy with such force it stuck fast.  
I'm going to have to ask Acacia if I can stay practising with the knives one more day, then on the last day before lunch, and our private sessions, I can work on survival skills. Not that I need that much. I'm something of an expert when it comes to which plants we can eat and which ones would kill us instantly. Everyone in District 12 is.  
I scrub myself down with a strawberry-scented soap and turn the water off. Then I change into a short-sleeved shirt and trousers. As I walk around my room, towelling my hair off, I realise how quickly I've adjusted to the Capitol's luxuries. How normal it feels to press a button on the wall, say what food we want, and have a servant bring it to me in little more than a minute.  
I feel sick as I think of my family, eating what little food Burnet might have managed to trade for, washing in a generations-old bath, and waiting. Waiting to see our interviews and our training scores. Waiting to see who kills us. Waiting to have our bodies sent home in nothing more than a wooden box.  
I toss aside the towel, roughly comb out the tangles in my hair, and make for the dining room.  
Surprisingly, I arrive before any of my fellow tributes. Acacia sits next to Maximus, and smiles pleasantly as I take my place at the table.  
"You seem to have attracted the attention of the trainers. I've heard that you were at the knife station, trying over and over again until you hit a bulls-eye. The Gamemakers noticed, too. They think you're very determined. Well done," she says.  
I nod, accepting the praise. I didn't do _that_ well, but I was certainly determined. As a servant steps up and pours me a glass of juice, I take the opportunity to ask Acacia.  
"I was wondering if I might be able to spend tomorrow working with the knives again," I say. "I'm really enjoying it, and I want to be good at it. I don't want to go down without a fight."  
Acacia takes a sip of her wine, which earns her a disapproved look from Maximus. She ignores him and watches me thoughtfully. She looks at me for so long I think she's not going to answer me, when she finally speaks.  
"And what about the other things you need to practise? I don't want you to be like the Careers, only knowing how to handle a weapon and ultimately dying from something you could've prevented if you'd listened to me."  
"I can spend the time we've got before our private sessions the day after, can't I? And I know which plants I can eat and which ones I can't. And there's one girl –"  
"So it's not about training, it's about rivalry," Acacia smiles. "She wouldn't happen to be from One, would she?"  
How does she know this? All I can do is stare at her with my mouth wide open, and she nods.  
"Yes, I thought so. Rouge, I think her mentor said her name was. That girl's taken notice of you. Apparently she was working with the knives alongside you, and she told her mentor you kept giving her odd looks."  
I start to protest. "No! It was once! I might've smiled smugly at her when I hit the target, but that was it. She was trying to intimidate me."  
"What's this?" Ember plops down into the seat beside me. His hair is slightly damp and he smells vaguely of oranges.  
"Your sister wants an extra day of training with the knives. Says it's because of a rivalry with another tribute," explains Acacia.  
"That girl from One?" He doesn't seem surprised in the slightest. "Yeah, I can understand that. But you know what she's said, Melia. We have to do other things, you can't just work on the cool-looking side of things."  
"It's not about how _cool_ it looks!" I say, appalled that he would say that. "You saw that girl! She was deliberately trying to intimidate me! She was trying to make me seem small and weak."  
"I know, I know, but what would you rather, dying quickly by being jumped by another tribute and run through with a spear, or slowly starving to death?" He's trying to make me feel better, I can see that, but it's not working.  
My voice rises both in pitch and volume. "I don't want to die at all! Why do you think I spent so much time with the knives today? Do you think it's because they look cool? No! It's because even if I can hide away by myself with an abundance of water and food, there's going to be a point where I have to defend myself. The Gamemakers will make sure of that! When I die, I don't want to be a sobbing mess because I never worked with weapons. I want to cause my killer some damage."  
Ember puts his hand out defensively. "Melia, that's not what I meant. Calm down. Please."  
"NO!" I shout. "I'm so sick of you acting like Dad! You think you're so helpful, but you're just a pain. I might have listened to you a few years, maybe even a few months ago. But things are different now! At some point you're going to have to learn that I'm not just gonna accept everything you have to say. Maybe Kaitlynn and Burnet were right when they said you're just a stupid kid trying to act grown-up."  
I stand up so suddenly I knock the table and send several glasses flying, including my own and Acacia's, and stalk from the room. Haymitch and Bailey have been standing in the doorway, their eyes wide, but I shove past them both and hurry to my room.  
My eyes burn, and I wipe them furiously on the back of my hand. Behind me I hear Maximus asking if someone should follow me, but Acacia tells him to just leave me alone.  
I throw myself down on my bed, making sure to bury my face in the pillow before I let out a howl. It's rare that I scream like that, let alone at Ember, but it's too much now. It's too much.  
I scream into the pillow, I pummel it with my fists, then I get up off the bed and let all of my anger out. I start throwing things. The blankets, the pillows, the sheets, I even try and heave the mattress from the bed. I hurl my glass of water at the wall so the glass sprays everywhere, then I pull open the drawers and start flinging clothes across the room.  
When I'm finished, I just sit back on the bed, panting. It's almost dark out, and the lights from the Capitol are beginning to glitter through the window. I realise my anger might not have been directed at my brother. It was probably just the start of many challenges for us both.  
But he didn't even try and stop me. He didn't try and go after me. Isn't he supposed to be looking after me?  
I sit in the darkness, listening to the shouts of these loud Capitol people. I hear footsteps and look up, expecting – hoping, almost – that it's Ember come to tell me everything will be all right, but the door across the hall opens and shuts, and the footsteps recede.  
I'll wait a bit longer. Yes, that's what I'll do. And then I'll show Acacia and Ember and Rouge what I'm capable of.  
Once I'm certain everyone is in bed, I braid back my hair again and put on my boots. I step carefully over the mess I've made, telling myself I'll clean it all up later. I quietly open the door and run down the hallway to the elevator. As I press the button for the underground floor, I'm thankful it isn't like the clunky, loud elevator back home in the Justice Building.  
My stomach flips as I go whizzing down to the gymnasium. It's not even ten o'clock yet, but I'm certain nobody will be there. Sure enough, as the doors slide open, I'm greeted only with the dimmed-down lights and the empty stations.  
I can see enough to know where I'm going and what I'm trying to hit. I select several knives and aim the first at one of the bull's-eyes. The third ring from the centre.  
I throw again and again until I've hit the middle and most of my knives are quite close, Somewhat satisfied, and knowing I won't get much better, I move on to the dummies. As I hit each body part, I mutter them under my breath.  
"Head, neck, chest, arm, thigh."  
 _Perhaps I should stop throwing them and work on more hand-to-hand combat_ , I think. I look round. I know I saw one of the boys from Four hacking away at a dummy that seemed to move by clockwork.  
There's a control pad on the wall behind the targets. Maybe if I mess around with that, I can set the practice dummies to move like they did earlier… But I decide against it. I can practise with those tomorrow. I don't care what Acacia says. She can't pick me up bodily and force me to work at the rope tying or the edible plants station. Neither can Ember, not that he would try to.  
But since Acacia said I should work with a variety of weapons, I decide to put the knives carefully back on the rack and pick up a bow and an arrow. I've seen tributes use these before, and they were something of a hot spot with my fellow competitors today.  
I hook the notch of the arrow onto the bowstring and pull it back, aiming at a target rather shakily. As I let the arrow fly, it's immediately obvious I'm incompetent with these weapons. The arrow hits the side of the target and bounces away. I close my eyes, wracking my brain for any memory of the way tributes in the past used a bow. I see a boy with dark hair, drawing back the arrow, his feet wide, his back straight…  
I grit my teeth and pull back another arrow, trying to replicate his stance. My elbow was too far forward, my body twisted at awkward angles, as though I was just trying to stand front-on to the target and shoot. When I shoot again, my arrow lodges near the bottom of the bull's-eye. It's not brilliant, but it's an improvement.I try again and again. Some arrows hit the target, some fly too far, some skim along the floor like a stone on a lake. I get more and more frustrated with myself and I nearly snap the bowstring as I yank back another arrow.  
I give an annoyed groan, ready to scream. I can't do this anymore. I've been down here for hours, and I'm tired and hungry. I pull my arrows from the target, pick up the ones that missed completely, and place them all back on the rack.  
"I'll practise with you tomorrow," I whisper, then I walk back to the elevator and try to ignore the churning in my stomach as I whiz back up to the District Twelve floor.


	8. Chapter 7

"Melia, come on! Hurry up, we've been waiting for nearly half an hour for you. Training starts in fifteen minutes." Acacia hammers on my door, shouting for me to wake.  
"Wha – _fifteen minutes_!" I throw myself out of bed and run around the room, hastily dressing and scraping back my hair with my fingers.  
Everything's cleaned up now. There's not a shard of glass left on the carpet, nor a scrap of clothing out of place from my temper tantrum last night. I wonder who was the poor soul that tidied everything away.  
I lace my boots and hurry down the hall to the dining area. I must look a real sight. Matted hair, dark circles under my eyes, creased clothing. Maximus shakes his head at me and I have to restrain myself from snapping at him.  
Bailey gives me a small smile, and that's when I notice Ember sits beside Acacia, not in his usual spot across from Maximus. He catches my gaze and I quickly look away, a pang of guilt hitting me like a train. I should never have shouted at him like that last night. He was the only person I was certain I could count on in the Games, and now I've gone and blown it.  
I slide into the only free chair left, and I can't help noticing it's the one furthest away from my brother. Is he really that angry with me? A servant scoops a spoonful of hot grain and a roll onto my plate, and I tuck in straight away. As I chew, I remember the hurtful things I said to him.  
 _You think you're so helpful, but you're just a pain.  
Maybe Kaitlynn and Burnet were right when they said you were just a stupid kid trying to act grown-up._  
Acacia puts her spoon down and leans across the table, her fingers laced together. "You four know what today's about. Survival skills. Edible plants, starting fires, tying ropes and setting snares. Perhaps tomorrow before your private sessions I'll let you choose what you brush up on, but you have priorities today. You did wonderfully yesterday, but today is about working on things that the others won't think of. Today is the day that will give you an edge in the arena. Melia, I don't want any more reports of coming to blows with another tribute." I stuff another handful of bread into my mouth to stop myself from having a go at her. Yesterday wasn't my fault. "Ember, I know you and Melia stuck together like glue yesterday. But you need to split up and work separately. I can almost guarantee there'll be a point in the Games, probably near the beginning, where you two will be alone. You need to know how to work without each other. Understood?"  
Ember snorts. "I'm sure Melia won't have a problem with that. I'm just a pain, aren't I?"  
Haymitch stands and goes to put his plate up on the table, despite the servants being around to do the job for him. He's probably getting himself out of the way in case anything happens. Bailey coughs awkwardly, and I just sit there, clenching my fingers around my cutlery.  
Eventually, once everyone's plates are empty, Maximus rearranges his features into a somewhat convincing grin and says, "Come on, everyone. We're almost late for training."  
We're one of the last districts to arrive in the gymnasium. I glance over at the knife station and smile to myself. I can't wait to see the look on Rouge's – or any of the Careers' – face when she sees how I'm faring with them now.  
She looks at me now, then tilts her head to the boy next to her and rubs her finger under her eye. "Probably stayed awake all night, absolutely terrified," I hear her mutter, then she snickers.  
Ugh. I stand up straighter, throw her my filthiest glare, and fold my arms. _You're fierce_ , I tell myself. _You'll show her_.  
Ember does his very best to avoid me all day. Whenever I move around the stations and sidle over to his, he either ignores me completely or puts down whatever he's working on and walks away. At lunch, I hear his loud, unmistakable laugh from across the room. Bailey looks past me, her eyes widening, and mutters something that sounds like an awful lot of swears. I turn. My blood boils.  
My brother _sits with the Careers_. He's laughing and joking around, acting as though it's perfectly all right to sit with the Career tributes. As though they're not completely arrogant, spoilt brats who will have no qualms about slicing him open and watching his blood run across the ground with sadistic smiles on their faces.  
I take several deep breaths, forcing myself to keep calm. _He's just doing this to get back at you because of last night_ , I think. But his voice carries and I'm certain he knows I'm watching him, because he suddenly seems louder.  
"So when we were little, she had this fascination with a tree in the Meadow behind our house. It's stupid, it's such a mangy, gnarled little thing with barely any height to it, but she insisted that I take her out there every day so she could pretend she was flying. I had to stand there for hours while she leaped into my arms, over and over again. I got sick of it so quickly. But you know what kids are like."  
My fingers clench. Haymitch tenses beside me, anticipating what I'm about to do. He grabs my arm before I can stand up. "Don't, for goodness' sake. You'll just encourage him."  
"Oh my god, are you _serious_? She sounds so dumb."  
"Why did you play along? She seems really childish. I stopped doing that when I was three."  
"Yeah, but she's never been quite right. When my youngest sister, Posy was born, I was twelve and Melia was nine. She was supposed to give Posy her doll because she was too grown-up for them by that stage but she threw a tantrum because she wanted to keep her doll. I mean, she should have left behind her doll long before Posy was born, but she sometimes acts like a child," says Ember.  
That's it. I wrench my arm from Haymitch's grasp and storm over to the Careers' table.  
"And sometimes you act like a huge jerk, you know that?" I snap.  
The Careers, all twelve of the repulsive creatures, stare at me. Several cover their mouths as though trying to hide the fact that they're laughing.  
"What?" Ember says. "Don't you like it when I tell the truth?"  
"I don't like it when you tell things like this to the _Careers_! We're from District Twelve! Back home they'd be appalled to know that you've been… you've been…"  
"That I've been, what, daring to speak to other people? Not everything's about you, Melia. Like you said of yourself last night, I don't have to agree with your every whim and want. You need to grow up, we're not going to sit around while you play with dolls. We're in a fight to the death, Melia."  
They laugh at me and a small, indignant sound escapes my lips. My cheeks burn, and before I can stop myself, I reach out and tip Ember's lunch onto his lap.  
"Good luck cleaning that up. You won't mind if you miss training, I'm sure the Careers will help you catch up," I hiss.  
The room is deathly quiet. Not even Ember speaks. Everyone seems to be frozen, only their eyes following me as I calmly walk back to my seat. I sit there, waiting until the chatter begins again. I hear the door open and close.  
"You've got guts doing that," Haymitch whispers. "Everyone knows what you're like now, they're going to be a lot more wary of you."  
"But I proved a point, didn't I?" I reply, picking up a roll and turning it over in my hands. "Just because I'm smaller than nearly everyone here, that doesn't mean I'm not going to put up a fight."  
He sighs, and for once I see a look of worry cross his face. "Yes, I _know_ that. It just makes you more of a target."  
"What do you care though? You've got a chance at getting home. I'm just another irritating person in the way of you winning."  
He puts down his cutlery and groans, rubbing his face. "Listen, sweetheart. I know your brother. Saw him at school. He thinks the world of you. If I even dared trying to lay a finger on you, he wouldn't hesitate before knocking me out. He's only doing this to get back at you, and you know that."  
Bailey speaks through a mouthful of food, pointing her fork at me. "He's right, Melia."  
I bite my lip. He _is_ right. Deep down I know we're acting immature and quite probably losing potential allies by behaving in such a manner, but I'm too angry at Ember.  
The next day, all forty-eight tributes are taken to a room just outside the gymnasium. Bailey sits next to one of the boys from Two, speaking animatedly to him about life in District Twelve.  
"Oh, yeah, I guess you know now, but we've got the Meadow. It's massive, stretching along the fence as far as you can see. Next to that's the Seam, the poorest part of our district. It's where I live. It's run-down, but it's nice. Very close."  
"We've got these villages, all spread across the district around a mountain. They're called Zones, and I live in Zone 4."  
I tune out their conversation as a voice announces the next tribute to go in for their private session with the Gamemakers.  
 _Artemis Parry, District Two._  
Slowly, surely, more tributes begin to trickle from the room. A knot forms in my stomach and grows with each moment until I feel like I'm going to be sick. I chew my lip to keep myself calm, but I feel my hands grow clammy. When the boy Bailey was talking to – whose name I learned is Odius – leaves, she just sits back and picks at her nails.  
Eventually it's just Ember and I. We don't say anything. I cross my legs and rest my chin on my palm.  
What am I going to do when I enter the gym? They'll have seen dozens of tributes showing off their knife skills. I could camouflage or start a fire…  
 _Ember Cressview, District Twelve._  
My brother stands but I still don't look up. Something clinks and then slides across the bench to me. Just as he reaches the door, I whisper, "Good luck."  
I pick up the thing he threw to me. It's a small silver flower hanging on a chain. I turn it over to see tiny writing etched into the pendant. _Laurel Harroway_. My mother's maiden name.  
I look back to the door in disbelief, but Ember is already gone. Tears prick my eyes as I close my fingers over the necklace.  
She must have given it to him as his district token, a parting gift. For the both of us. Something to hold on to. Something to give us strength in the final moments.  
I loop the chain around my neck, vowing to keep the necklace with me at all times. I suddenly feel stronger, as though my mother is watching over me. And, if I squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate enough, I can hear her whispering "You're my big brave girl, Melia. You'll always make me proud."  
When my name is called, I stand. My back straight, my shoulders back, my jaw set, I make my way into the gym.  
I look up at the Gamemakers. They're on a balcony some fifteen feet above the gymnasium floor, sitting around a large banquet table. Only one seems to be particularly interested in me, the rest are all drinking and laughing.  
I clear my throat and stand a little taller. "Melia Cressview. District Twelve."  
Several turn to look at me, and I notice one of the Gamemakers – a particularly young-looking one – smile. Once I'm certain they're focused on me, I turn and walk over to the knife station. I select several and choose a target.  
 _Remember, step forward. Arm up, elbow bent… flick your arm forward and follow through._ I practise a few times, a smile crossing my face. No bull's-eyes yet, but none of my knives missed the target. I look up to see a few Gamemakers nodding in approval.  
I'm a little surprised they aren't bored yet, having watched forty-seven other tributes before me, but I wonder if they're specifically watching out for Panem's favourite siblings. That's good, it means I'm being judged fairly.  
I hit the target a couple more times, just to show that I can actually throw knives, then I put them back and move over to the fire-making station. I gather the supplies I need, then I head over to the trees set up for climbing and camouflage.  
I start by making a little nest of twigs and leaves, then I scatter some towards and around one of the trees. The training dummies are still set up and I grab one and haul it back over to the tree, where I hoist it onto one of the branches.  
The Gamemakers are more interested now, watching curiously to see what I'm doing. I smile to myself as I grab two sticks and sit down beside the tinder. I start humming as I rub the sticks together, back and forth, back and forth. I'm not even exactly sure if this is going to work, but at least the Gamemakers are paying attention to me. After a few minutes, a spark ignites and flicks onto the tinder. I carefully arrange the sticks over the ember and gently blow until a thick cloud of smoke emits from the tinder bundle.  
Soon enough, the wood bursts into flames. I make a small noise of satisfaction, but I'm not done yet. Crouching beside the fire, I blow again so it drifts in the direction of the tree. Slowly but surely the line of leaves catches fire and it's like watching a line of gunpowder burn. Then without warning – at least to the Gamemakers – the tree starts to smoulder.  
The dummy is like a tribute, trapped as I've just set fire to the one place they thought they were safe. I've just demonstrated starting a forest fire. I turn back to the Gamemakers. They look back at me, some nodding, some smiling, some looking incredibly surprised.  
"Melia Cressview, District Twelve. Coal. I'm accustomed to starting fires," I say.  
Laurentum Clearheart, the Head Gamemaker, folds his arms and gives me an amused smile. "Thank you, Melia. You may go now."  
I bow slightly, then turn and leave. As I step into the elevator, I see the overhead sprinklers extinguishing my creation. Perhaps I did well. Perhaps.


	9. Chapter 8

We sit around the television, waiting anxiously for the scores from today. As the anthem plays and the Capitol seal appears on the screen, we all tense up in anticipation.  
The legendary announcer Claudius Templesmith begins by saying what an amazing line-up of tributes we have this year, made even more exciting by the fact that it's a Quarter Quell. He mentions the brute strength evident in some of the tributes from the Career districts, the slyness shown by other tributes, and the love expressed by Ember and I. Of course he talks about that. It would be a criminal offence not to.  
Then begins the training scores. Typically, the Careers get eights, nines and tens. The rest average sixes. Surprisingly, Haymitch gets a 9. We all cheer and clap for him. Bailey gets a 6, which isn't bad considering she's never held a weapon in her life. Ember's score is 8, and mine is 7. I just sit there, stunned, while everyone claps me on the back. I couldn't have hoped for better. It's not the best score, but I'm really happy.  
As the anthem plays again and the programme ends, Acacia turns to us with a smile stretched across her face. "Well done, you guys. You've made me really proud. Tomorrow's going to be about preparing you for your interviews so you can gain even more sponsors. You'll spend four hours with each of us, and the rest of that time will be yours. Now go on, go and get some sleep. You'll probably need it."  
Before Ember goes to his room, he gives me a small smile. Haymitch pats me on the back again, and Bailey stops by my door.  
"Well done, you. What'd you show them?" she says, leaning against the wall.  
"Oh… I threw some knives," I reply, trying my best to downplay everything.  
"Come on, I did the same sort of thing and I got a lower score than you. There's gotta be something more you did." She flashes me that smile that says _I totally know you're fibbing_.  
I rub the back of my neck awkwardly. "Um… well, I demonstrated how I would start a forest fire. Or set fire to a tree where another tribute's hiding. I guess they liked that."  
"I guess they did. It's definitely different from what most people would've done. Throwing spears, using swords, shooting arrows. But I should probably go to bed. Spending four hours with Maximus will drain the life out of me tomorrow." She laughs, then hugs me and retreats to her room.  
I hesitate before going to my quarters and closing the door behind me. A seven… pretty good for someone of my age and stature. Especially good for someone from District 12. I wonder what my family will be thinking now. Will they be pleased? Slightly more hopeful? Certainly for Ember.  
And the Careers. Maybe they'll consider extending their alliance to him.  
I sigh as I change into a soft shirt and trousers and curl up under my blankets. Hopefully, playing up the sibling angle when we were in the chariots, and now my score, have both helped gain a few sponsors. Tomorrow I'll have to keep up the whole thing all over again in my interview. Whatever happened in training doesn't matter anymore.  
After a few minutes, I get up again. I cross the hall and knock gently on Ember's door. No answer. He can't be asleep yet, he's always awake for hours after going to bed. So either he's ignoring me – which I refuse to believe, because he couldn't possibly know it's me – or he's out somewhere.  
I decide to go to the roof. I shiver as the wind makes my trousers flap around my ankles, and I tuck my hands under my arms. He sits at the edge of a garden, seeming to look out at the streets below. As I get closer, I see a small flower that he's twirling between his thumb and forefinger. My own fingers go to the pendant at my throat.  
"Not a bad score for someone from Twelve," I say, and he looks up. He gives a half smile.  
"Not a bad score for a fourteen year old from the Seam," he replies.  
I take a seat beside him. "Listen. I'm – um – I'm sorry about what happened yesterday. With lunch. Did you manage to clean it all up?"  
"Well did I smell like meat today?" He has a point. "But it doesn't matter, Mel. I was a jerk to you. I shouldn't have told the Careers the things I did."  
"To be fair," I say, "I _did_ start it. But maybe it's a good thing that the rest of the tributes think we're fighting."  
He looks at me. "It'll make them think we're not allies," he says slowly. "And when they're hunting, they'll think they're looking for the two of us in two different places."  
He pulls my head onto his lap and starts braiding a strand of my hair. "You know, when you were little you had this mop of dark hair that just wouldn't be tamed. It would go curly in the rain and even when Kait pulled it back in two tight braids it would try to escape." He laughs, shaking his head. "I remember how frustrated she used to get about it."  
"Yes, but she gets frustrated about a lot of things," I say. "I just hope she's listened to what I said about not fighting with Burnet. I'd hate to think Mother's having to deal with screaming matches from them."  
Ember snorts and tilts his head. "Oh, I'm sure they're fine. You know what Burnet's like, serious when he has to be. And Kait's probably taking over the household while we're away. They'll be fine."  
"Mm." He's right. Kaitlynn and Burnet might fight a lot, but they know to band together when it's needed most.  
"So what're you going to do with your interview?" I ask after a moment.  
Ember stops braiding and twists the lock of hair around his finger. He thinks for a moment. "Well we've got to act inseparable again, for the cameras. It'll confuse the others even more, which is good. I don't know though. I might go for charming, likeable. I bet you'll be able to act cute, like you always do." He pokes me in the stomach, the way he used to coax me into a good mood when I was little.  
I giggle. "I don't act cute! But I don't know what I'll do. Probably just answer Caesar's questions as truthfully as possible and hope for the best… Haymitch is pretty obvious. Snarky, arrogant and sarcastic. Just like usual."  
We laugh, properly this time. The first time since we left District Twelve. After a minute, Ember just looks at me.  
"Are we all good then? No more fighting?" he asks.  
I nod. "No more fighting."  
I sit up, wrapping my arms around him and burying my face in the curve of his neck. Just for a moment, I feel like a little girl again. Like if I keep my arms around my brother nothing will hurt me.  
But I have to pull away too soon, because Ember says it's getting late and that I should be in bed. I'm about to protest that I'm not a child anymore, but I suspect that would just lead to more fighting.  
Ember takes me back to my room and tucks the blankets right up to my chin. "There we go," he says. "All snug like a bug."  
"A bug in a rug," I murmur, finishing the phrase he would always say before Mother blew out the candles at bedtime.  
He smiles, bids me goodnight, and then shuts the door quietly as he leaves.  
Acacia and Maximus let us sleep a bit longer in the morning. By the time I'm awake the sun is already streaming through the window. I roll over, basking in its golden light. Nobody comes to rouse me, so I get up and change into a plain shift. Ember and Bailey aren't at the table when I go down to the dining room, but Haymitch looks up and gives me the tiniest of smiles as I take my place beside him.  
"Good morning, Melia," Acacia says, sipping coffee. Briefly I wonder if her indulgence in coffee is similar to other victors' addiction to alcohol or morphling.  
"Morning," I say, looking up at the servant who dishes my breakfast. She doesn't even look at me, doesn't make a sound. "Are you all right? Why don't you talk?"  
She looks up in alarm, her face going beet-red, then shakes her head and hurries away. Acacia looks troubled.  
"She's what they call an Avox. A traitor, so to speak. She had her tongue cut out and now she serves tributes," she explains.  
"Oh." I look down, biting my lip. Now I wish I hadn't said anything. I probably just embarrassed that poor girl – and knowing the Capitol – I may have caused her more harm than good.  
I focus on eating breakfast, which is a bowl of grain sprinkled with sugar and a few peach slices. Haymitch seems unusually happy this morning, but perhaps he's just trying to get himself in a good mood because he knows the next few hours will be agony. Once everyone's seated, Acacia finally speaks.  
"You know what today's about. Traditionally, the tributes from each district are coached together. But because there's four of you, that'll be far too hectic. Maximus is going to work with you on how you present yourself to the public, while I'll be helping you work out which angles you're going to play. Haymitch and Melia, you'll be working together with Maximus first. Bailey, Ember, you'll be with me."  
Only half an hour into our session with Maximus, Haymitch looks like he wants to hang himself. Maximus has us change into 'tidy clothes', which means a full-length gown and high heels for me, and a crisp suit and shiny shoes for Haymitch.  
"But I'm fourteen," I start to protest. "Spindle won't be putting me in high heels."  
"He might! You need to learn how to walk properly in them, because if you're going to be a victor then you'll most certainly be wearing them then," snaps Maximus. He takes several deep breaths, as though calming himself because I'm the most irritating creature on the planet, and smiles. "Now. Stand up straight, both of you. You slouch far too much. Good. Haymitch, for goodness' sake, stop _fidgeting_! You're creasing your jacket!"  
Haymitch and I exchange looks. He rolls his eyes as Maximus swoops around us, smoothing down wrinkles in our clothing. I personally don't see why the creases should matter, we aren't going to be wearing these clothes during our interviews.  
Then Maximus instructs us on how to walk. This proves to be utter agony for me, wobbling about on the balls of my feet in shoes that pinch my toes. Haymitch seems to be having slightly more success. All he has to do is 'walk with confidence'. According to Maximus, he needs to swing his arms more, _swish_ more.  
"You're already very sullen, and I wish you weren't," Maximus sighs. "But if you can _walk with confidence_ , you'll radiate power and have sponsors lining up by the dozen!"  
Haymitch rolls his eyes again, muttering something about "I'll show you walking with confidence", but he manages to master it quite quickly. He seems very determined, and Maximus criticises him yet again because he's frowning and he'll get lines on his brow.  
Me? I stumble a lot. Maximus seems to be under the impression that I'm being deliberately difficult, but I honestly can't get my head around walking in those awful shoes. The dress keeps getting tangled and I lift it up before I fall headlong, but he smacks at my hands, screeching "Not above your ankle! What are you, a savage?"  
Eventually I'm so sick of him that I finally retaliate. "I don't think I'm the savage in the room! You're the one that's training me up so I can be paraded around like a circus animal and then thrown into a death match for your entertainment!"  
Then I fling off the heels and plonk myself down on a chair, glaring at the chocolate-brown carpet. From the corner of my eye, I see a small smile playing on Haymitch's lips, but I don't return it. I'm too angry with Maximus. He just sighs and says, "All right then. Since you don't seem to be co-operating very well, why don't we work on smiling."  
It's less a question and more of a command. He has Haymitch sit down beside me, then we take turns repeating stupid phrases. Each one either begins with a smile, is said while smiling, or ends with a smile. I hate it, and I know Haymitch does, too. By the time we're finished, he's massaging his face and my cheeks ache badly.  
"Well… you two've been a… _delight_ to work with," Maximus lies. "Very sullen, but I'm sure Acacia will be able to whip you into shape. Just remember to not glare at the audience as much as you've done with me. Now run along, you're probably starving."  
As we head down the hall, Haymitch lets out a sigh. "Whew, glad that's over. I can't believe you yelled at him like that. I was getting ready to hit him. Stand straighter, Haymitch. Don't hike your skirt up so much, Melia. Smile!" he mocks.  
I find myself feeling slightly less annoyed as he says this. To make things even better, Acacia, Bailey and Ember are all in good moods so I'm fairly hopeful about the afternoon's session.  
Bailey seems to be suppressing a smile. She leans over. "I heard you yelling at Maximus earlier. Is he that bad?"  
I shrug. "It's more the fact that he doesn't understand that I'm in no way graceful."  
After lunch, Acacia takes Haymitch and I to the sitting room and smiles. "You two look tired. Bad morning?"  
"Utterly awful," I reply.  
"Well luckily I know exactly what I'm going to do with you both, so hopefully we'll be done early and you can do what you want before dinner."  
She works with Haymitch first. His angle is fairly obvious. Arrogant and sarcastic, cocky and rude. He's really good at it, sending the questions Acacia asks straight back at her with snarky answers.  
"Now Haymitch," Acacia says, playing up Caesar Flickerman's voice. I bite back a laugh. "Have you ever considered being polite?"  
"Well, I tried once, but the world is full of stupid people. I lost my patience," he replies, and gives a half-smile.  
Acacia just beams and pretends to announce the next tribute: me. The angle she gives me is the loving sister, fiercely protective but in awe of the Capitol.  
"You've shown that to the audience enough already, so I'm sure you'll have no problems continuing on like that tomorrow evening. And, yes, I do know about how you tipped Ember's lunch onto his lap," she grins.  
I feel the blood rushing to my face. No doubt the Careers retold the story in a particularly animated fashion to their mentors, who then probably passed it on to Acacia. She has me talk about my family, the other tributes, make up some rubbish about how wonderful the Capitol is. Haymitch snorts derisively as I gush about how truly kind and welcoming the Capitol citizens have been to us.  
By the end of it, I'm so sick of the sound of my own voice. I sound like a Capitol puppet, strings forcing my limbs to make unnatural movements, forcing my mouth to spout lies that make everything seem better.  
As promised, we finish with an hour to spare. Acacia lets us go, telling us we're free to do as we please until dinner. As soon as I'm in my room I rip off the dress and hurl it in the corner. I take a shower, washing away the sweat and grime accumulated through many hours of tripping and falling in those wretched heels.  
Then I lie back on the bed and fall asleep until I'm roused for dinner.


	10. Chapter 9

For the last time, I'm woken by Maximus rapping on my door. "Wakey-wakey, darling! Come on, your prep team will be waiting! When you're dressed run along so you can be made up. I'll send up some food since you won't have time for breakfast."  
I shower and clean my teeth, then I dress in a plain shirt and trousers. I leave my hair loose. There's no point tying it back if I'm just going to have it redone.  
Spindle comes to collect me. She smiles. "Good morning. Today won't be too exciting. Just us making you look wonderful so you make an impression. Not that you haven't already, with that score of yours and you and your brother being such a winning pair with the Capitol."  
"They really like us?" I ask as we make our way down to the Remake Centre.  
Spindle nods. "Oh, yes. Of course they do. They'll lap up anything that's not the norm or might cause drama. It's rare for there to be a sibling pair in the Games. I've already seen posters up advertising Panem's Favourite Siblings."  
My prep teams greets me with many hugs and squeals. Luna's hair is now a bright silver, I'm assuming to stay true to her name. She brushes my hair from my eyes, cups my face in her hands, and says, "Oh, we're going to make you look _stunning_!"  
I almost consider asking Spindle to stay so I'm not alone with my prep team. They babble on about the strangest of things. Serena retells the story of how she almost had a panic attack because she couldn't find her bright purple false eyelashes, which she needed for a friend's party or something. Demetrius tells me that he couldn't wait to tell all his friends what a wonderful tribute he had the pleasure of remaking. I smile awkwardly, unsure of how to respond.  
I'm covered in pale makeup, which feels odd. I don't like looking down at myself and not seeing the olive tan that's so common back home. Luna brushes my hair until it falls down my back in a silky curtain, then ties a section of it back. She slicks the rest up with gel and moulds it so I have what seems like an abnormally large lock of hair falling down the side of my face. Demetrius carefully outlines my eyes in dark blue.  
"I wanted to do black, but Spindle said it would be too harsh," he says, sticking his tongue out slightly as he finishes with the eye pencil. "Personally, I think you'd look lovely with black eye pencil. Very similar to coal. I wonder what they're doing with your brother?"  
I nod slightly, and Serena flaps at me.  
"Don't move!" she screeches. "I almost smudged your blush!"  
I sigh as she adjusts the powder on my cheeks, then adds some to my eyelids. A coat of pink lip gloss, some glittery polish on my nails, and finally a layer of silver powder that makes my entire body sparkle in the light. I'm given warnings not to touch my eyes unless I want makeup in them.  
Spindle comes in with a bag containing my outfit. She flaps at my prep team until they step back, then commands me to shut my eyes.  
Someone slips the dress over my head. It's lined with a soft, silky fabric and it's fairly light. I stumble into a pair of shoes, which thankfully don't seem to have heels. Some adjusting. Fidgeting. Silence.  
"You can open your eyes now." I can hear the smile in Spindle's voice.  
A mirror has been placed before me. I inhale sharply. I'm not quite sure if the girl I'm looking at is me.  
I'm wearing a pale blue dress that falls just to my knees. The sleeves stop just below my elbows and are made from a sheer blue material decorated with sequins. My shoes are flat and white, and I'm so glad I don't have to risk wearing heels again.  
I look young. Much younger than my fourteen years. But at the same time, I look more grown-up than ever.  
"Oh Spindle," I whisper. "Oh, Spindle. I feel like a princess."  
"You look like one," says Serena, her voice hushed. "They're going to love you."  
We meet with the rest of the District 12 group at the elevator. Ember looks handsome in a black suit and red shirt embroidered with orange and yellow thread.  
"Fire and ice!" cries Maximus, clapping his hands. "How very clever!"  
I take my brother's hand and whisper in his ear. "You're a real ember now."  
He smiles and strokes the top of my head, being careful not to mess up my hair. "I know."  
Haymitch and Bailey look good, too. Haymitch wears a simple black suit with a charcoal-coloured shirt. He keeps tugging at the collar, a scowl on his face. Bailey's in a silvery dress and matching shoes, her hair falling in soft waves down her back.  
All forty-eight tributes are led onstage to wait to be called for their interview. I don't let Ember's hand go, even when we're seated and our palms are slick with sweat.  
Caesar Flickerman's hair and makeup are green this year. Last year he was yellow, and I can't help thinking of vomit as I compare the two.  
Each tribute is called up. Rouge wears a deep red dress and lipstick. She saunters her way onstage and notes how she can't wait to get her hands on some knives. She seems both sexy and deadly, and I shudder.  
A boy from Three says he's constantly calculating his odds, which earns a laugh from the audience. I wonder how he thinks he'll fare in the Games.  
A boy from Eight says he's amazed as always, at the work of the stylists. "With so many more tributes this year, what they've done is remarkable!" he says, and Caesar nods in agreement.  
The girl from Ten, the one who was smiling at her Reaping, looks eye-catching in a gold gown that offsets her brown skin. She's mysterious and elusive, but slightly smug.  
The interviews go for over two hours before they get to us. Bailey is called up, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. My legs are tingling.  
Caesar and Bailey joke about for a bit, playing off her fun personality. She says how the food here is enough to feed the whole district, and she's scraped off at least three layers of skin in the shower alone. She then has a laugh with Caesar, discussing the different colours of skin seen here in the Capitol. She says she thinks the showers have turned her a lovely dusty rose tint. When Caesar mentions Willow, she makes an effort not to look upset.  
"If I win, I'll have to make sure I bring her home a pot of melted chocolate," she laughs, but her voice is shaky.  
Haymitch's personality plays off of her beautifully. He does his best to be as rude as possible… but he doesn't really need to try.  
"So, Haymitch," says Caesar. "With one hundred percent more tributes, what do you think of your odds?"  
"Well, they're going to be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds are roughly the same," Haymitch replies.  
Then my name is called and I have to let go of Ember's hand. I wipe the sweat off on my dress. I make my way quickly to my seat, and a hush falls over the crowd. As I sit, I hear my blood pounding in my ears.  
"Hello, Melia." Caesar greets me with a smile.  
I force my lips to turn upwards. _Don't panic_ , I think. _Don't panic. This is the most crucial part_.  
"Hello," I whisper.  
"How are you finding the Capitol? It's quite a change from District Twelve, I'm sure," he says.  
I take a deep breath. "Yes, it's definitely different. It's certainly a lot brighter and louder, but I love the food."  
He laughs. "Yes, well, that seems to be mentioned a lot by tributes. What about the clothes? Your reaping dress was lovely, if I might add."  
"Thank you," I smile. Now that I'm talking I feel a lot more confident. "Well, once I found out my stylist Spindle was from Eight –" the cameras turn to her "- I knew I was in safe hands. I mean, look at this!" I gesture to my dress. "And my brother, Ember, he's in a lovely red and black suit. We're like fire and ice."  
Caesar beams, then places a hand on mine. "So on the subject of your brother, what do you think will happen in the arena? Being from District Twelve, you're obviously a target."  
A lump forms in my throat. I swallow. "Well, being brother and sister, we're obviously going to be allies. And Bailey too, she's my best friend. But I know Ember will do everything he can to keep me safe. He always has. I was bullied once by these boys when I was younger, and I remember he came up and punched one of them." The audience laughs, and I see Ember smile. "But he'll protect me, and I'll do the same."  
The crowd sighs and I see people actually dabbing at their eyes. Caesar nods. "I imagine you will." The buzzer goes off, signifying the end of my interview. "Unfortunately we're out of time. Best of luck to you Melia Cressview, tribute of District Twelve!"  
The cheers and claps from the crowd carry me back to my seat. Ember is called up and he smiles at me as we pass each other.  
He flashes the audience a winning smile. Of course, he's likeable. The protective older brother. Charming and kind. He sits back in his chair, totally at ease.  
"Oh, I see what your sister means. Fire and ice! And a very clever twist on your name too, I bet," says Caesar.  
My brother nods. "Definitely. Our stylists did a wonderful job. I mean, look at my baby sister. I didn't realise she was quite so pretty." As the cameras find me again, I give a shy smile. The crowd _aww_ s at Ember's comment. He's definitely milking the situation for all it's worth.  
Caesar nods in agreement. "She looks lovely. But I must ask. I don't think we've had siblings in the same Games before. What do you think your strategy will be?"  
Ember thinks for a moment. "I think we'll get out of there as quickly as possible, and then stick together."  
"Of course. But Melia said you'd do everything to keep each other safe. Do you think that's true?"  
He nods. "Of course it is."  
"What if it comes down to the two of you? What happens then?"  
Ember goes quiet for a few seconds. "That's hard, because obviously I want to keep her safe. She's my little sister, the only one I'm certain I care about. I'd take a spear to the heart for her if I had to. But I know it'll be completely different in the arena. Self preservation and survival instincts will kick in. I want to stay alive, too, and that makes things difficult."  
Caesar presses his lips together. "I bet it does. On a slightly happier note though. Tell us about that training score. Eight! What do you think of your odds now?"  
"Oh, it's like Haymitch says. I get the feeling my odds are roughly the same. The weaker players will be picked off first, alliances will be formed early, with the only difference being there'll be more to target. But I'm fast, and I've got allies. So don't count me out!"  
"Oh, I won't," Caesar reassures him, then the buzzer goes. "Best of luck, Ember Cressview, tribute from District Twelve!"  
Ember waves at the crowd, grinning all the way back to his seat. We all stand for the anthem. His fingers lock in mine, and he doesn't let go until we're in the elevator.  
That night, I struggle to find sleep. My brain flicks back forth between the interviews and the Games.  
 _I didn't realise she was quite so pretty._  
Will there be snow? Fog? Trees? Water?  
 _I want to stay alive too, and that makes things difficult._  
Swamp? Desert? Rocks?  
 _He'll protect me, and I'll do the same._  
There's no point dwelling on what comes tomorrow. I roll onto my back, breathe deeply. Stare at one point on the ceiling. The partying in the Capitol slowly dies down, and eventually my eyelids grow heavy. I yawn, roll onto my side, and close my eyes.  
Who knows what tomorrow will bring?  
When I wake again, it's before dawn and Spindle is whispering that I need to get up. How much sleep have I had? Four hours? Five?  
Spindle smiles at me and gives me a plain outfit to wear, then takes me to the roof. No time for breakfast today. At least, no time for food in the Training Centre.  
As I step onto the ladder that drops down from the hovercraft, I'm frozen in place. I briefly consider panicking, but I'm lifted into the hovercraft and a woman approaches me.  
"This is your tracker, Melia. Hold still, please," she says. Not that I can move anyway.  
She holds up a needle and injects something into my arm. Then the ladder releases me, and Spindle is retrieved from the roof.  
A girl directs us to a room where breakfast has been laid out. I don't feel like eating, but Spindle manages to coax a plate of stew and grain into me.  
"Come on Melia," she says. "You've got to eat something. Who knows how scarce food will be?" Her voice is much softer than usual, and I try my best to force down another plate of stew and several slices of bread.  
Once we land, we go back down the ladder to the catacombs beneath the arena. As we head to the Launch Room, it occurs to me that my blood could be splattered across the ground in less than an hour, my body collected by a hovercraft to be cleaned and sent home. No. I refuse to believe that.  
I shower and clean my teeth, my thoughts wandering to Ember. What's he thinking about? What the arena might contain? What his strategy might be? I just hope he's not as nervous as I am.  
Spindle parts my hair in two braids down my back and smiles softly as she helps me into my clothes. It's mostly heavy clothing. Grey trousers and coat, a soft blue singlet and a white shirt. The socks are thick and warm, with white leather boots worn over the top. Spindle pulls my mother's necklace from my coat.  
"I expect you'll see a lot of cold weather in the arena," she says, rubbing the coat's material between her fingers. "In that case, find a source of heat and shelter. You don't know how long you'll be in there. If it's cold you won't want to be suffering from frostbite before you win."  
"You really think I can win?" I whisper.  
"Really truly," she replies.  
A pleasant female voice announces "Fifteen seconds to launch" and my throat tightens.  
"I can't," I say, suddenly overcome with fear.  
"Yes you can, Melia."  
"No. No, I can't. I can't do this. I'm not ready!"  
I step back onto the launch plate and Spindle cups my face in her hands.  
"Ten seconds to launch."  
"Melia, you have to stay calm. If you panic, you might as well not even try. You're not going to die. Remember, find Ember and Bailey and get away from the Cornucopia."  
"Five seconds to launch."  
Tears fill my eyes as Spindle leans forward and plants a gentle kiss on my forehead. A glass tube descends from the ceiling, cutting me off from her. She smiles and taps her fingers beneath her chin. Head high. She mouths something. _You can do this_.  
Then I'm being pushed up in the launch tube, into darkness. There's a small circle of light above me that gets bigger by the second.  
I'm blinded momentarily as the plate clicks into place.  
"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Fiftieth Hunger Games begin!"


	11. Chapter 10

I blink, noticing the drop in temperature as I look at my surroundings. White… everywhere…  
Snow, I realise. The arena is an arctic wasteland. Similar to previous arenas, we're standing around the Cornucopia on a plain surrounded by sparse woods. I know without hesitation that's where Acacia would want me to go.  
I look around, trying to find Ember. He's about seven tributes to my left, poised to run, and he catches my eye and gives me a reassuring smile. When I look for Bailey, I lock eyes with Rouge. She smiles maliciously and runs her thumb along her neck. _You're next_. I gulp and look away quickly.  
Bailey's five tributes to my left, directly facing the mouth of the Cornucopia. She hasn't seen me yet.  
The best supplies are stacked right up close to the horn. A tent pack, bed rolls and blankets, items which could stop me freezing to death. It's tempting, so tempting, to run and grab as much as I can. I don't know how long I'd last with almost nothing of value. But I do know how long I'd last if I were to try and fight for supplies, which is to say barely a few minutes.  
There's a pack of knives a few metres from the Cornucopia. I could use those. They'd be so helpful. I want to go for them…  
There's movement in the corner of my eye. Bailey, trying to get my attention.  
 _Ten._  
She's shaking her head.  
 _Nine._  
What? What is it?  
 _Eight._  
She knows I've seen them.  
 _Seven._  
She knows I want those knives.  
 _Six._  
She shakes her head again. _Don't go in_ , she mouths.  
 _Five._  
But I have to have them.  
 _Four._  
I need them.  
 _Three._  
I'm panicking now. Trying to make a decision.  
 _Two._  
Unsure of what I should do. I want the knives to badly, but…  
 _One._  
I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't…  
 _Zero._  
The gong sounds, ringing loud and clear. Tributes spill onto the snowy grass, and everything seems to be in slow motion as the action unfolds.  
I lunge forward, knowing I won't be able to reach the knives but refusing to leave with nothing. I scoop up a small metal pot and a loaf of bread wrapped in plastic. My head whips from side to side, trying to find my brother and my best friend. My eyes catch Bailey running away from the bloodbath with a small backpack.  
I run in ten metres and retrieve a blue backpack. It could contain anything, from weapons to more food, but I'm glad I've got something. I spin around, ready to head for the woods, when something slices into my upper arm.  
I fall back, a scream bursting from my mouth. One of the boys from Three, the one who was calculating his odds, raises an axe. I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the deathblow, but it doesn't come. After a moment I open my eyes. He's on the ground beside me, an arrow in his back.  
I waste no time in leaping to my feet and sprinting away. I'm indebted to the person who killed him, but it reinforces the thought that I'm never going to be safe in the arena.  
I turn for a moment to survey the field. The Careers have already spread out to attack, and I watch in horror as Rouge snatches a young boy from behind and slits his throat. He slips to the ground, blood pooling in the snow beneath him, dead. Gone. A girl thrashes on the ground, her fingers slipping over a wound in her chest. Eventually she goes still.  
Where's Ember? Bailey and I'm assuming Haymitch have both got away safely, but I haven't seen Ember. Then one of the girls from District 2 hacks away at someone. I can only see the dark hair, the tanned skin, but I'm certain it's him.  
My eyes burn and I struggle to silence the scream that's forcing its way up my throat. I can't help him. I turn and run away into the forest. I bite my cheek hard, trying to stop myself from crying. I manage about five minutes, stumbling through the trees, before my body is wracked with sobs. I continue running, knowing that to stop now is an invitation for death.  
 _But he's gone_ , a little voice whispers. _Why continue now? There's nothing to live for_.  
I wipe my eyes furiously with the back of my hand. Ember would want me to try my best. He'd want me to continue for as long as possible.  
About ten minutes into the Games, I slow to a jog. I'm wheezing now, my breath coming in horrible stabs. I shouldn't have run so far, so fast, but I had to get as much distance between the others as possible. I alternate between jogging and walking for the next few hours. I'll have to find Bailey eventually, but right now she can wait.  
I've still got my bread and my pot, despite the incident with the boy from Three. I stop for a moment and tuck them away in the pack, but I don't dare stop for any longer. I can check my supplies later.  
I realise I'm probably being shown onscreen at the moment, and I try and look better than I feel. As I've worked out from years of watching the Games, crying doesn't endear you to the viewers. It makes you look weak and unable to handle the situation. So I rearrange my face into an expression of grim determination.  
It's early evening when the cannons begin to fire. I stop to catch my breath and count the shots. One… two… three… on and on until they stop at eighteen. Eighteen dead. The highest number of cannons I remember counting on the first day was fourteen, and that was when the arena was a desert and tributes were constantly being bitten by snakes or stung by scorpions. But this isn't a normal year.  
Eighteen dead, and one of those is my brother.  
Just as the sun starts to set I take off my bag and slump down against a tree. It must be very cold, but the fact that I've been moving all day means I'm sweating. I unzip the backpack and lay the contents on the ground. The bread and the metal pot. A plastic rain poncho. A container of crackers and dried fruit. An extra pair of socks. A basic first-aid kit. A water bottle. It's really not much, and I feel tears welling up in my eyes again. I don't even have a weapon to defend myself with. I'm a sitting duck.  
I scoop a handful of snow into the bottle and wait for it to melt, knowing that I at least won't dehydrate out here. Already the adrenaline I've been functioning on all day is ebbing away, leaving me feeling cold and miserable. The first-aid kit contains bandages and tape, and I cover the wound on my arm and tape it roughly.  
I take a sharp twig and cut holes into the socks to fashion them into a pair of gloves. Then I lay the rain poncho under me and rip a few chunks of bread from the loaf to eat. When the anthem plays and the faces of the dead begin to show, I watch for a few minutes. One of the girls from District 1, but unfortunately not Rouge. That's a little surprising considering most years the Careers all survive. Then comes a pair from 3 and one of the boys from 4. I don't bother watching the rest. None of them matter anyway, and I'm almost certain Bailey and Haymitch have survived today. They're not stupid enough to stay and fight it out.  
As the sky goes dark, I tuck my hands under my arms to try and keep them warm. I won't be able to sleep tonight. It's too cold and I'm too scared.  
In the darkness, leaning against the tree, I allow myself to finally cry. I thought that Ember, of all people, would make it through the first day. He was strong and fast, despite being from District 12. But someone was stronger or faster than him. By the time I'm finished, I'm hiccuping slightly. I wipe my eyes and take a drink of water. I must appear so weak, so unlike my determined self last night. But things are different now. My whole strategy for the Games has changed.  
I bring my knees up to my chest and look around. For the first time in my life, I feel truly alone. I don't know what to do, I don't know where anybody else is, and I can't even defend myself if I were to be attacked. So much for Panem's favourite sister. I'm completely forgettable now.  
I find myself humming the anthem as the night goes on. Slowly, my eyelids grow heavy. The last thought I have is of my family, watching me with bated breath.  
The sound of heavy footsteps crunching through the snow jolts me from sleep. It's almost dawn, and I see the silvery light of the sun appearing on the horizon. I don't dare move a muscle, but my eyes flick through the darkness, trying to see who disturbs me. My eyes begin to adjust to the gloom and I see a large shape moving through the woods towards me. I hold my breath, waiting for them to pass.  
"I can see you!" It's a girl, I know that much.  
I close my eyes, as though that'll have any effect. The footsteps come closer and my lungs feel like they're about to burst.  
"Who are you? Which district are you from?"  
I don't answer. Maybe if I'm quiet she'll think I'm just part of the tree and leave me alone. But then I'm thrown to the ground and she's pinning me down. I see now it's one of the girls from District 5. She smirks.  
"Oh, if it isn't the little girl from Twelve. Where's your brother?" she says, cocking her head.  
"He's not coming," I mumble, fighting against her.  
"I guess last night's promise to protect you was all a ruse." She digs her knees into my stomach. "How sad. Don't suppose he'll miss you when you're gone, then."  
She pulls out a knife, and I'm suddenly more scared than I was during the bloodbath. I look around for something, anything that will help me out. She laughs at my feeble attempts to get her off me, and for a brief second I wonder why she's so like the Careers. Arrogant, teasing, sadistic.  
About a metre away lies a rock the size of my fist. I look back at the girl as she smiles and locks a hand around my throat. I grab the rock and smash it against the side of the girl's head. She goes down like a sack of flour, slumping against me. But still I don't stop. Some animal instinct takes over and I hit her again and again, until blood splatters my face and hands and the cannon fires. I throw her off of me, suddenly realising what I've done. I'm horrified at myself. What drew me to kill, so violently, so early on the in the Games? I never meant to kill her. I never meant to kill anyone. I stare at her body for a moment, then I scramble to my feet, snatch up my pack and the rain poncho, and run away.  
I've been running for a few minutes before I have to stop. I lean over, holding a tree so I don't fall over, and vomit into the snow. I retch until there's nothing more to come up, then I scoop up a handful of clean snow and rinse out my mouth. I crouch on the ground, tears streaming down my face and my hands pressed to the sides of my head. I'm a killer… I'm a murderer…  
I've got to keep moving. Others will have seen the hovercraft that took the girl's body away, and they'll know there's someone else in the vicinity. I get to my feet, shaking, and I run at full-speed just to get away from this whole thing.  
I hear footsteps coming my way but it's too late to stop. I slam into another tribute and fall to the ground, my pack doing little to soften the blow. I lift my hands up, sobbing.  
But the person doesn't kill me. Perhaps I deserve it. I'd be better off if they did. Instead they grab my arms and pull me up into a sitting position.  
"Melia? Is that you? What's wrong?"  
Oh no, I'm hallucinating now. I'm hallucinating, because that sounds like my brother but it can't be because he's dead. He's gone, and it can't be him.  
A pair of strong arms wraps around me, holding me tight. I'm too worked up to fight back.  
"Melia, shh… it's all right. What happened?"  
"No – no, you're not real. You're dead!" I sob.  
"I'm real, Melia. I'm real. It's all right," he says.  
"No, but you're dead! I saw you die!" But even as I say it I know he's real, he's here, and everything just might be all right.  
"I thought you were _dead_!" I shout. I pummel his chest in a feeble attempt at making my frustration known.  
"I'm not. I'm fine, Melia, see?" Ember catches one of my hands and presses it against his chest.  
Through the layers of clothing I still feel the steady thrum of his heart. I needn't have worried at all. But the boy I watched die… Slowly I wrap my arms around him. My brother's alive. He's okay. And that's all that matters.


End file.
